


A Bot Named Lenore

by Vahildr



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Eventually the Walter Boys will make an appearance, The SPG story I've been working on for too long and need to actually post somewhere, original fanbot, we'll have to see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 14:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9494657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vahildr/pseuds/Vahildr
Summary: Lenore Sprigs was programmed to dance and to sing: to play music and to entertain.When her creator, Dr. Robert Calgori Sprigs, is killed because of his work on Blue Matter, she is taken in by an old friend of his and given a home and a family.Years pass, and one of her “father’s” most notable enemies comes calling, with plans to take her away and turn her into a “living” weapon.Lenore is forced to make a difficult choice that puts her at the mercy of these men, but keeps her foster family safe from them.





	

Dr. Robert Calgori Sprigs pulled the sheet back from the table, eyeing his creation with building excitement.

With one hand, he gently caressed the electric blue wire-hair, while with the other, he pulled open the cavity in her chest, allowing access to her clock-work heart. 

Suddenly, as if remembering the seriousness of his situation, Dr. Calgori turned, gingerly picking up the heart of his creation, the core of blue matter that would bring her to life.

He moved back to the automaton, gently fitting it into the cavity, and linking the connectors and wires to the glowing core.

The figure on the table shuddered and her eye-lights flickered blue. Dr. Calgori quickly sat her up, using one hand to sit her steady on the edge of the table.

He smiled in triumph. He still had a chance. 

“Lenore Sprigs. Startup initiated. Program 001. Command 001. Respond if understood.”

His voice was calm despite the precious seconds he knew he had left. 

“U… Un… Understood… Llll… lllLenore Sprigs… Startup… i… iii… Initiated…”

Robert Calgori Sprigs smiled as his finest creation’s eyes went blank, starting the sequence that would bring her completely to life, like his true employer’s own robotic automatons. 

He heard footsteps, clicking against the tiled floor, and the American inventor shifted, but didn’t turn, eyes on his automaton. 

“Good evening, Dr. Calgori,” A voice drawled from behind him, a sickeningly familiar southern accent that was heavy on the man’s ears. 

“You have been of great service to us. Unfortunately, you are no longer of service to our plans.”

The doctor sighed, almost in resignation. 

He’d never see his “daughter”, his final and quite possibly his greatest piece of work, again. 

He’d never hear her voice, how she would grow, what she would learn.

He closed his eyes, silently apologizing for what he was about to put her through, and he let his head fall.

Things were going directly as planned.

“So be it.”

x-x-x-x-x

Lenore Sprigs was a pretty thing. 

Polished copper accented with silver and black gleamed in the dim light of the bar that her employer owned. 

Electric blue wire served as her hair, shoulder-length and pulled into an intricate design of twists and curls, held in place with a just as intricately-carved ivory comb.

She stood on the stage, singing in a soft soprano voice that seemed to carry to fill the entire building. Her eye-lights glittered blue-green in the near darkness as the music changed to something a bit more dance-like. 

She swayed to the music, the black fabric of her knee-length dress twisting around her legs.

A few of the humans – pairs of them – came closer to the stage, dancing to the swing music, and Lenore smiled, wishing she could join them.

She had been built to dance, to sing. To make music and to entertain.

The door of the establishment opened and a man stepped into the place, followed by three others. Like always, Lenore ignored it, not noticing the looks that they shot in her direction. 

Had she paid them any attention, she would have noticed the silver and copper figures, their glinting eye-lights, and the human that walked ahead of them.

But, as it was, the musical automaton was focused on her music.

When the bar finally closed for the night, her employer called her into his office, like he did every evening. 

When she stepped in, he was reading a file, and she stood, watching the dark-haired man gingerly. In the years that she had lived in his household, Lenore had learned to be wary of the man who was her keeper.

“Good evening, Mr. Dareyn,” she smiled, curtsying and keeping her eyes on the floor.

He nodded in response, motioning for her to sit in the seat across from his desk.

She did as was commanded, waiting for him to speak, fiddling with the hem of her dress as she waited. 

“Lenore, you sang beautifully, as always. Thank you, m’dear.”

She bobbed her head, accepting the compliment. It had been a good night then, for him to be this outwardly familiar with her. 

The human tilted his head. “Tomorrow night, I will not require your assistance, as an old friend of mine will be in town, and she has requested the opportunity to perform here. I have allowed her to do so.”

He paused, and Lenore could see a look of doubt in his eyes.

“I would ask that you not come by tomorrow night. Miss Kithaine made it clear that she would not perform if my… in her words, ‘mechanical whore’ was present.”

He grimaced as he spoke the words, and Lenore could tell he was not happy at having to say them. She nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you sir.”

He smiled, kindly then. “You are welcome, Lenore. You may leave, or if you wish, I will be done soon, and you may accompany me home.”

The blue-haired robot nodded. “I will wait then, Mr. Dareyn.”

He waved then, turning back to his reports of the day. Lenore took that as her cue to leave, and she stood, curtsying once more before finding her way to the dressing room that she had been given.

She sat in front of the mirror, and thought about her employer’s words. 

She had heard of Miss Kithaine. She was a singer from Paris, a place that Lenore knew was across the sea. The singer was known to show a great dislike for the few automatons that had been built for entertainment, musically and otherwise. It was of the Parisian’s mindset that only human emotion could expressively capture the subtle emotion in song and music. 

Lenore sighed, staring at her reflection in the mirror. For the hundredth time, she wondered what it would be like to be human.

She shook her head harshly, banishing the thought as she hummed softly, a senseless tune that soon turned into a silly song about a man who wanted to travel the world on the back of a dinosaur. 

That was how Mr. Dareyn found her: singing softly to herself, staring sadly at a picture tucked into the mirror.

He walked into the room, placing a hand on her shoulder. Lenore jumped, looking up at him.

“Robert Sprigs was a good friend of mine,” he said softly, nodding at the picture, an older man who was her creator. “It was a shame he couldn’t see how far you have come.”

Lenore sighed, looking at her hands. James Dareyn was the only other person who knew about her “father’s” true calling as an inventor, and not just the doctor everyone assumed he was.

That’s why, at his funeral, James had taken the automaton, offering her a place in his family.

He patted her shoulder. “Come on, Lenore. It’s late, and we should head back to the Manor. Beth will be wondering where we got to.”

She nodded and stood, following the other out to his car.

As James drove, Lenore stared out the window, watching the lights of New York dart past, slowly making way to country and the manor that Mr. Dareyn and his family lived in.

x-x-x-x-x

Beth Dareyn was tall and thin, but pretty in her own right. Copper-red hair – something Lenore envied of the human – fell to the small of her back and emerald green eyes that made her seem wise beyond her years pointed to her Irish lineage, and to a background that bordered on the fantastic. 

Like James, who came from a welsh background, she had a strong hold in the lore of her families Celtic heritage. 

That was, perhaps, why Lenore liked the human woman so much. Like the automaton, Beth was an artist in her own right. Programmed – in the loosest sense of the word – to create and to entertain. 

When Lenore stepped into the manor upon returning home, the woman was there, waiting for both her husband and the automaton. After giving her husband a quick kiss and a hug, Beth grabbed Lenore’s arm, pulling the copper robot along to her studio.

“James tells me that you are not going into the city tomorrow. That is good. It means you can help me with the girl’s costumes tomorrow!”

They stopped in front of the large oak doors that led into Beth’s haven, and the red-haired woman pushed open the doors, dragging Lenore inside.

“The girls are already asleep, so it’s just you and me tonight, unless James decides to join us.”

Lenore laughed, smiling brightly. Every evening, Lenore and Beth would bring the girls here and they’d sing, tell stories, and just have a bit of fun after a long day. It helped Lenore forget that she wasn’t… human…

“D… D-do ya think Mr. Dareyn will come down?”

Beth tilted her head at the slight malfunction that the automaton sometimes exhibited, but smiled, making a mental note to mention it to her husband, who knew the basics of how Blue Matter worked. “He might. And you know, you don’t always have to call him Mr. Dareyn. James’d be happy to have you call him by his full name.”

The blue-haired robot looked down at her hands. She knew that, but part of her was afraid that if she called him anything other than “Mr. Dareyn”, she’d forget her creator without meaning to do so.

Or, what little she knew of him in the first place. 

All she knew was the calm voice that she could remember, the voice that initiated her start-up sequence all those years ago.

Beth watched the automaton with knowing eyes, watching as the even more familiar malfunction set in. 

Lenore sort of slumped into the chair she sat in, as if nothing was inside the metallic outer shell that created her body. Her eye-lights dimmed, and a small drip of oil appeared at the corner of her eye. Beth was silent, watching Lenore with a solemn sadness. 

Without saying another word, Lenore stood, making her way out of the brightly lit room and making her way through the large manor, until she found her own rooms, where she fell into the window seat, staring across the outside landscape.

Lenore’s hands shook as she picked up the photo book that her caretaker had given her after Papa’s funeral.

She flipped through it, stopping at one picture, a newspaper clipping from long before she was built. It was her creator, Dr. Robert Calgori Sprigs, and a man that Lenore didn’t recognize, a man that Mr. Dare- that _James_ \- knew very little about. Or so he told Lenore. Behind the mystery man, three figures, automatons like her, stood with instruments. 

She longed to know who they were, who built them. 

But, as there was no article to go with the image, Lenore was unsure who they were. (But, to be honest, dear reader, you may know who they are. In fact, I am almost certain you do.)

With one final look at the image, Lenore closed the book and set it aside, wiping the drips of oil that gathered by her eyes, and walked to the small machine sitting next to her bed. With practiced ease, Lenore attached the tubing that extended from the machine to the slot at the base of her neck. 

She flicked the switch on the machine, and it glowed blue for a moment. Lenore shuddered slightly, allowing herself to curl up on the bed, back to the door, and unknowing to the audience of two that she had.

Beth, having followed the automaton, and James stood at the door into Lenore’s room, watching in silence at the silent torment that the by all standards young bot was going through. 

Beth turned to her husband, a look of pity on her face. “James, you need to tell her about the Colonel and his boys… It may help her a bit…”

James shook his head. “I promised Robert, Beth. He made me promise to tell nothing of the Walters to her, unless it was absolutely necessary. And as of right now, none of them – none of us - are in any danger. The Cavalcadium has made sure of that.”

He placed a hand on Beth’s shoulder. “Come, my dear. The more we dwell on the unseen, the sooner we have to deal with the consequences. Robert said it would take years for Becile and his lackeys to find out about her. If he was right, we still have time.”

Beth sighed, knowing it was fruitless to argue. She knew what it was that Lenore ran on, and who it was that wanted to take every last source of that power for his own nefarious plans. 

James turned to walk back to the master bedroom, throwing a smile towards his wife.

“Come, my dearest. It does us no good to dwell on what will come."

The red-haired Celt turned back to the automaton’s room, looking back at Lenore, who she considered a daughter. 

“I hope you are right.”


End file.
